


The Souls of Skyrim

by Mistianthorn



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fanfiction, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistianthorn/pseuds/Mistianthorn
Summary: Ten years after saving the world from the world eater's wrath, Torith, a khajiit/the dragonborn, has decided to put her adventuring to an end and become a good mother to her children and husband. However, before she puts her questing to an end she's going to do one last task for the Greybeards, teach their newest member Kralir how to survive in the outside world.





	The Souls of Skyrim

Alone in his bed, Kralir lay silently, his arms wrapped desperately around his naked body in a failed attempt to keep himself warm. It was freezing this Mondas morning, even with the sun peaking through his window. The wind howled wildly outside his bedroom window, driving his already chilled body farther under the soft deerskin blankets. A storm no doubt. He thought, shivering. Gods it’s cold… He rubbed his arms harder until he felt a trace of warmth pass through his shoulders. Knowing it wasn’t from his body, he turned to the man behind him.

“You would be warmer if you woke up with the rest of us.” The man said in a deep creaky tone, placing a fur rug on the man below him.   
The tall man pulled it over himself gratefully. “I know,” He poked his head out from beneath the blankets and smirked at his teacher. “But if I don’t get enough sleep we both know what happens…”

His teacher laughed and brought his winkled face close to his. “Oh come now Kralir, it’s not that bad… all you do is grumble and pout. And you do that already.” He smirked at the young man then stood back from him, pulling a dusty navy blue robe from the dresser next to him. “You should get up soon, Borri isn’t as patient as me.” The man picked up his robes then walled down the corridor before them, disappearing around the corner into the main hall. 

Once the man was gone Kralir pulled the blankets up over his chin, blocking out the blinding light peaking at him from window. ‘I need to get up…’ he thought, bringing his outstretched legs to his chest. ‘But I’m so tired…’ he let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He’d get up soon enough. 

 

Not too far away a young woman stood on a cliff, her body tucked low to the ground, slowly approaching the white hairy figure just below the edge of the cliff. Today was the day she’d get this son of a hoaker, just like she did three months ago. If this were any other day, she’d race past him on her ebony steed and watch him thump around the mountain until he got bored. But that was not this day. Today she would hide on her perch and stab him in the back of the head with an arrow. That ugly three eyed beast had eaten two Whiterun residents, none of which she remembered the names of, or anyone did, but the king wanted his blood anyway. 

Honestly, she was tempted to hold off on murdering the beast until next week but she had an appointment with Whiterun’s favorite silver foxes today, the Grey beards. She’d found the second half of ice form in an ancient burial mound (where they all resided apparently) and now she wanted to know the location of the third. Too bad they were b usy until noon and wouldn’t unlock their doors until then. Lazy old geezers…

‘Almost there…’ the khajiit thought silently, slowly creeping across the snow until she could see the top of the beast’s head. Once close, she pulled her black bow from her back and placed an iron arrow on the string. There were enough elvish arrows in her quiver to make this a quick death but this beast didn’t deserve any mercy. All those times he scratched Shadowmere must be avenged. 

Just as she was about to release the string a cool steel covered hand tapped on her shoulder, their voice thick with a deep nordish accent.   
“You know you have better arrows, right?” 

“Hush!” The cat woman grit her teeth and smacked her hand to the man’s mouth, pressing both him and her closer to the ground before creeping forward again. “We’re going to make this kill last…”

“And why would we want to do that?” her companion snickered, rolling his eyes. “This isn’t the only quest we have today. And I want to see the kids. It’s been almost a week…”

“They’ll be fine, now hush…” The khajiit drew the string back to her ear, holding her breath as she tilted the bow upward to aim at the beast’s head before letting the arrow fly loose. Within a second the beast’s head burst into flames and he ran around the mountain screaming, eventually pausing to heal once the flames went out. 

“They’re all alone Torith…” the man pressed, pulling out his own bow to aim it at the beast. “It’s dangerous to leave them like that. They’re still kids you know.” He shifted the fur on his armor then crept up next to his partner. 

“They have a housecarl Vilkas.” Torith replied quickly, shooting another arrow into the beast’s head. “They’re safe. Trust me.”  
Vilkas shook his raven-like head and released the arrow from its string, sending the beast into loud screams. “You sacrificed her to Bohethia last week dear…” 

“Oh yeah, still, they’ll be fine. Quit worrying.” Another arrow shot into the beast’s head, crippling it to the ground. 

“Can we just go home? I’m tired of all this running around. It never ends.” Vilkas shot an orcish arrow from his bow, the arrow landing in the snow next to the screaming animal. Once the arrow was attached he set down his bow and looked at his wife, his arms wrapping around himself tightly. “We never see our children anymore Torith. I know you’re an important person and you need to keep adventuring but I want to be with our kids and watch them grow up. Life’s so short, I feel like I’m losing part of it by running around doing these pointless tasks. Look at us, we’re sitting on a mountain shooting a troll just so we can make 500 gold. I run a store dear, we don’t need the money.” 

The khajiit pulled the arrow off the string and looked at her husband, her eyes alternating from the ground and her husband before mounting the arrow to the string again. “I don’t do this for the money Vilkas, I like adventuring, unlike you apparently…” she released the arrow from its string then pulled out her mace, pressing a soul gem into it before running towards the beast. 

Vilkas let out a sigh then picked his bow up again, shooting into the beast repeatedly before pulling out his greatsword. “It’s not that I don’t want to dear, it’s just I have things I’d rather be doing. Look, you enjoy being outside and exploring the world, just like me. But I’d like to spend time exploring the world we created together. I want to get to know our children and love them. They never get to see their parents, we’re always busy going out on a quests. If you want to keep going that’s fine by me. Maybe you can even bring the jester along.” Vilkas chuckled and sprinted towards the beast, jumping up before running his sword straight through the center of its back. 

“But I want us to do it together…” Torith said quietly, jumping onto the beast’s back to slam her mace into the back of its head. “I don’t want to replace you with someone else. You’re my husband, I love you and want to be with you.” She sighed then jumped off the beast’s back, rubbing her mace with her hand. 

“Well…” Vilkas said, driving his sword through the beast’s back. “What if we make a deal? I’ll come out with you once a week to get out of the house and you’ll stay one day to play with our kids. I know you’re not ready to settle down dear, and I don’t expect you to. I just want you there to see them grow.” 

Torith though a moment, then kicked the beast over to the edge of the cliff. “I’d like that.” She took a step back and brought air into her lungs, uttering a loud “IIZ SLEN” at the beast before her. 

In an instant the beast turned to ice and fell to the ground, stumbling off the cliff into the frozen wasteland below, followed by another form that broke off from its back. 

She watched it quietly then dropped her mace, gasping for breath as she ran down the mountain to the black horse on the trail. “VILKAS!!!” 

 

Kralir’s eyes opened as he heard the familiar scream of a female khajiit on the mountain, his body instantly shooting out of bed. 

“Torith?” He grabbed the navy blue robe from the dresser next to him and sprinted down the hall towards the edge of the fortress, only stopping to grab a piece of bread from a table. 

Once he reached the edge of the fortress he pushed open the door and ran outside, sprinting down the icy steps before stopping at the monastery chest, located at the end of the steps. “Torith, are you there?” he called. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly and stared down at the snow beneath him, shivering a little before walking out a little from the steps. It was exceptionally cold this Mondas morning, not even the ice troll was speaking. 

“Torith?” He called again. After receiving no answer he walked back to the steps and opened the chest, taking a few bundles of food with him to bring back to their home. It was weird he heard her scream today, but then again it may have just been a dream. He was always having weird dreams, the last one involved a hoarker baking him into a sweet roll. 

Just as he was about to venture a little further off the trail he heard the monastery door open. From inside emerged a man in his late 60s, his face covered in a long silver beard, and his body was dressed in a navy blue robe. “Kralir? Is that you?” the man asked, running down the steps to the place where Kralir stood. “What are you doing out here? Get back inside, it’s not safe. There’s a frost troll guarding the gate.” 

“I know.” Kralir said, his eyes going back to the icy path in front in of him. “I’m sorry Borri, it’s just I heard screaming. I thought Torith might be in trouble…” he glanced towards the barren path again then sighed, lifting one of his bare feet to get it off freezing ice beneath him. “But I must have been hearing things…” 

Borri nodded and pulled the young man closer to him, putting a hand over his shoulder before pushing him towards the door. “You most likely were. You have many strange dreams child, some of which you can’t differentiate from reality…” he put a firm arm over Kralir’s shoulder, pulling his body closer to that of the young man so he could share some of his body heat. “But that doesn’t matter. Get inside, we have prayers this morning and you will not be late.” 

“Yeah…” Kralir quickly turned his head and ran up the steps in front of him, only pausing to open the door. “But if she was, should we go check? I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Torith can take care of herself,” the man replied quickly and opened the door, giving Kralir another push. “now get inside, Arngeir is waiting.” He gave the boy another push then followed behind him. 

Once inside Kralir walked to the center chamber and laid down on the ground in the bowing position he was taught to. It was a back straining move but he had to do it all the same. In order to understand the language of the voice you had to experience the strength required to master the voice. 

“Kralir?” The man looked up from his position on the ground at the man above him. The man looked about the same as Borri expect he had deep intense blue eyes instead of brown. .He glanced up and saw his teacher standing above him, his arms crossed and a big frown on his face. “Excuse me young man but aren’t you forgetting something?”

Kralir glanced down at the floor below him and gave a groan as he saw the bucket of blood red paint beneath him. “Prayers?” he was given a brief nod and saw a bucket of red paint sitting beneath his bed along with a paint brush and an ancient dragon book. A look of dread crossed his face. “Does it have to be today?” He asked. 

His teacher nodded and pointed to the bucket. “Yes.” The man picked up the bucket and handed it to the younger one, handing him a paintbrush in the other. Taking the bucket, Kralir dipped the small finely haired brush into the red liquid and began painting the familiar dova symbols onto his flesh. As soon as he was finished, his teacher took the bucket and handed him the book. “We’ll finish up outside.” He said. A blanket was placed over the young man’s shoulders, and the teacher gingerly pulled back the young man’s long black hair, running his fingers lightly through it. After untangling it he placed it back over his shoulders and drifted towards the door. 

Kralir made sure the paint was dry then followed. 

“You ready?” Borri asked, pulling open the monastery door to the cool elements outside. 

Kralir gave a slight shiver then nodded, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to keep out the cold.   
“Yeah I’m ready.” He quickly grabbed his light robe from the side of his dresser, then slipped it onto his barren body along with a pair of fur shoes onto his feet. Then he rose from his spot and walked out of the small room to the edge of the monastery and out the door into the icy air. 

“It’s so cold…” he muttered under his breath, as the breeze greeted his skin. He quickly wrapped his robe tightly around his chest and brought his arms closer to his body. “Arngeir you coming?” he asked.   
A soft creak echoed across the snow as the door to the monastery opened. A small older man of about sixty stepped out from the door with three other men following roughly around the same age. The first man was Arngeir, wearing the same light robe as Kralir had seen in the room before, and carrying a wooden bucket with red liquid in it. The second man was Wulfgar and in his hands he carried a bucket with red liquid in it, in a blue robe similar to Arngeir’s. The third man, second to final man following was Borri, in his arms he carried a silver long stringed instrument with crystal lining the edges. And last of all walked Einarth who carried nothing. On his body he wore a thick fur robe with gold thread lining the edges and a pair of fur shoes slightly thinner than Kralir’s. “Forget something?” Borri asked.

Kralir quickly took the small silver instrument and brought it under his chin, gingerly stroking it’s strings. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere! Where’d you find it?”

“By the statue.”

“Thanks!” He spun around effortlessly and plopped his left foot firmly on the ground and swayed lightly as if music was playing then set the instrument down on the monastery steps. “Hey Angeir have you seen my bow?” His eyes went to the statue. 

The man shook his head. “No. But if you remind me later I’ll help you look for it. Where’d you have it last?” 

“By the gate.” 

The man nodded. “Okay we’ll look there right after lunch.” He lightly dipped his fingers into the bucket he was carrying and brought them to Alex’s face, gingerly tracing the thum symbols onto his skin. 

Kralir jumped slightly. “Why’s it so cold?” 

The only man laughed. “Oh hush, it’s just a little chill. You’ll be fine.” He gingerly slipped the robe from Kralir’s body and laid it on the monastery steps then returned with a rope in his hands. He ran it effortlessly over the young man’s hands, legs, and neck. 

“Too tight?” he asked. 

The young man shook his head, wrapping his arms firmly around his body. “No, but damn it’s cold!” He rubbed his arms quickly and huffed warm onto his arms which were beginning to form Goosebumps. 

“Arngeir?” He asked after about a minute, shivering. “Do we have to do the same thing as last time? I passed out and woke up with weird marks on my back.”

The man nodded. “Of course.” He took the rope and led the young man to the large dragon statue in the middle of the courtyard and proceeded to tie Kralir to the edges. After Kralir was securely fastened he walked over to the steps and grabbed the bucket of blood, then returned to the young man with it. 

“Hold still…” he said softly, placing his fingers in the bucket once again. With ease, he traced the familiar symbols of the ancient dragon words onto the young man’s skin. From his arms to his legs, to untrimmed chest, the old man traced the symbols of the ancient dragons. Last of all came the groin, which required more detail. “Paintbrush please.” Arngeir said. 

A small paintbrush soon entered his hand and he began painting the small thumm words around Kralir’s loins. “Kralir you’re moving…” Arngeir said softly, his hand calmly resting on Kralir’s upper thigh.

Kralir shifted slightly then stretched one of his hips. “Sorry, it just feels so weird when you touch down there.” Arngeir watched silently as Alex’s loins shifted and his member stiffened. 

“Kralir,” Argenir asked calmly. “Are you feeling okay?”

Kralir nodded, almost too quickly, and his face reddened. “Yes…” His face reddened more as his member took on a slightly darker color. 4

The old man laughed softly then moved his hand from Kralir’s loins and continued painting on his lower thighs. “It’s okay Kralir. It’s perfectly normal for a man your age to get an erection. It just means his body is readying itself for mating.”

“But I’m not ready to mate.” Kralir said. 

The man laughed again. “It just means your body thinks you might be mating soon. Touch with this area generally tells your body mating is going to happen. If a female wants the male to know she wants to mate she’ll touch his genitals or vice versa. Understand?” 

Kralir nodded. 

“Good. Now let’s get along with the process shall we?”


End file.
